


Letters of Peony and Laburnum

by EverythingandAnything



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Courtship, Flowers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Love Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-06 04:43:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14634381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverythingandAnything/pseuds/EverythingandAnything
Summary: Leo de la Iglesia is a travelling scholar, destined to go wherever his studies and skills take him. When Prince Phichit Chulanont hires him as the ghostwriter of their public love letters to their betrothed, it should be a simple task, if he weren't in love with the man's betrothed himself; Prince Guang-Hong Ji, his first lost love from long ago.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Balls and Masquerades: That fateful moment. A night to remember, a night of no pretenses. Time loses meaning as we dance the night away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work would not exist without Violet Evergarden, and without a certain [friend](http://omgkatsudonplease.tumblr.com/) suggesting that I combine one of its storylines with the French play Cyrano de Bergerac. 
> 
> Please note that this is a work of fiction, and any resemblances to any actual places and people are merely coincidental.

The rainbow-hued peonies are in full bloom, perfuming the air with their scent. Amid them, Prince Guang-Hong Ji, first of his name and third in line for the throne, crumbles onto an unforgiving stone bench as tears stream down his freckled face. In the distance, the brightly lit torches continue to illuminate the main hall of the Imperial Palace, the no-doubt polite conversations of his birthday banquet guests —   _ his suitors _ —  muffled by both the thick shrubbery and space alike. 

Guang-Hong sniffs, the deep red of his new clothes growing darker with every teardrop that rolls down his cheeks, the fine brocade and embroidery damp to his fleeting touch. The grass and stray petals at his feet blur together before he closes his eyes, a second sob slipping from his lips as memories of hushed gossip, thin smiles and even thinner compliments fill his mind, the scent of peonies disappearing beneath that of the rich food of the banquet.

“Hey, are you okay?”

The vision of Prince Jean-Jacques Leroy’s arrogant smirk fades away as his eyes fly open, warmth rising in his cheeks at sight of the figure in front of him. He’s handsome even in the moonlight’s half-shadows, and slightly taller, shoulder-length brown hair pulled back in a simple tie, and the knot in Guang-Hong’s chest loosens at the absence of the heavier brocades and detailed embroidery favoured by Court nobility on his simple clothes. Even in the darkness of the garden, the concern in his eyes is bright, and Guang-Hong stifles the next sob as the stranger kneels before him, his breath catching in his throat at the gentle smile, matched only by the warmth in his gaze.

“Hey, it’s okay to cry! That was the worst birthday celebration I could imagine. And mine involved cleaning out an entire archive by myself!”

Despite himself, Guang-Hong snorts, even as more tears run down his cheeks, “You do realise I’m trying to  _ stop _ crying here, right?”

The stranger chuckles in response, his fingers gentle against his scalp as he reaches out to ruffle his hair, and Guang-Hong’s jaw drops open at the touch.

“You know, you looked so cold and untouchable sitting up on your throne back there, talking to person after person with the same blank face, so it’s good to know that you can be a kid sometimes as well.”

Guang-Hong pouts, rough embroidery sliding beneath his fingertips as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I’m not a kid! I’m fifteen!”

The stranger’s smile grows wider, and Guang-Hong ducks his head, forcing a breath into his lungs as the muscles of his chest tighten.

“I know. Happy birthday, your Highness.”

_ Your Highness. _

Guang-Hong wrinkles his nose. “Just Guang-Hong please. Everyone’s been calling me “your Highness” all night.”

The man chuckles again, the sound sending pleasant shivers running up and down his spine.

“Happy birthday, then, Guang-Hong.”

There’s a light lilt to the words that fills him with warmth, the sincerity behind them refreshing after the cold clipped tones of formality, and Guang-Hong giggles, the lingering taste of salt on his lips fading away.

“And does my well-wisher have a name?” he teases. Years of etiquette lessons are the only thing stopping the flustered squawk from fleeing his throat when the man drops his head to kiss the air above his hands, the phantom brush of lips on his skin stealing the breath from his lungs.

“Leo de la Iglesia. It’s an honour to finally meet you.”

Guang-Hong does squawk at  _ that _ . “I-Iglesia? As in the university? You’re one of the visiting scholars!”

Leo ducks his head, the light dusting of pink on his cheeks barely visible in the dark. “Indeed I am.”

“That’s amazing! What do you study?”

If possible, the brightness in Leo’s eyes grows to rival that of the sun itself, and Guang-Hong’s lips stretch into his first breathless grin of the evening.

“A bit of everything, as required, but music mostly. Would you like to hear a song? I can’t promise I’ll sing as well as the musicians back at the banquet, but I’ve never had anyone complain.”

Guang-Hong nods, the gentle smile before him blurring with the movement, his heart battering at the cage of his chest as Leo’s voice threads through with the light breeze to take flight into the air. He’s deeper than the higher voices of the Court singers, the song faster, the sheer joy and wonder evident in every verse, and Guang-Hong’s feet tap along to the rhythm, his own voice joining Leo’s as he hums along to the melody. Before he knows it, it’s over, Leo holding out the final breathtaking note, and Guang-Hong applauds, his palms stinging with the force of his claps.

“That was amazing! Thank you!”

Leo laughs, slowly getting back to his feet, and Guang-Hong blinks as he offers him a hand. “Would you like to dance as well?” he asks. “I’m not very good, but I promise I’ll try my hardest to be worthy.”

Guang-Hong’s heart beats faster in his chest, the flush in his cheeks spreading as he shyly slips his hand into Leo’s.

“I would love to.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Star-Crossed: Family rivalries, opposing countries in war, differences in social position. We may be separated by circumstance, but we are united by something deeper.

“Get up, your Highness. I believe you know what today is.”

Guang-Hong groans, the closed doors of his chambers and the blanket covering his head failing to muffle the animated giggles and chatter of the servants, the voice of his childhood maid and caretaker Yi Xiao cutting through the last of his half-sleep.

“It will not do to keep everyone waiting.”

The stern clap of his childhood returns with a vengeance, the wooden doors opening with the faintest of creaks as he slowly pushes the blanket away, squinting at the sudden brightness as he eases himself up on shaky limbs. Behind Yi Xiao, the Imperial maids wait in the doorway, the fine brocade of his Court clothes glowing like fire in their arms, the most formal of his crowns balanced atop of them like an offering. Guang-Hong swallows, rubbing the itchiness away from his swollen eyes, the skin still sensitive and sore beneath his touch.

“Yes, Yi Xiao.”

Somehow, he’s able to move his arms and legs at the appropriate times, his throat growing tighter with each new layer of clothing, until his chest heaves for every breath, the silk already sticking to his skin. The jade beads of the crown rattle like chains as Yi Xiao places it delicately atop his head, her fingers carefully —   _ almost lovingly _ —  arranging the strands of his hair around it, and Guang-Hong swallows, his neck already aching from the unfamiliar weight. The corner of Yi Xiao’s lips quirk downwards, a distant ache filling her eyes, and Guang-Hong represses a sniff when she quickly drops into a formal bow, the maids following suit. 

“There. All done, your Highness. Are you ready?”

_ No. Never. _

“As ready as I will ever be.”

 

The hall is already packed with the members of the Imperial Court when he enters, the air heady with enough incense to make his head spin. The hushed conversations, murmurs, and gossip quiet in an instant as he carefully sits on his throne, their expectant gazes falling heavy on him for the briefest of moments before they drop into a low bow in a ripple of colour. Behind him, his Father clears his throat before his voice booms throughout the hall, and Guang-Hong fights to keep his face carefully blank, his throat already choking back a sob.

“Presenting, the First Public Love Letter for Prince Guang-Hong Ji from Crown Prince Phichit Chulanont!”

Even with all of the finery of the Imperial Palace’s packed main hall surrounding him, the messenger from his betrothed’s homeland still cuts a stunning figure in his simple uniform as he slowly rises to his feet, the sky blue and cloud white colours standing out amongst the golden brown, deep blue, light green, and bright red brocades. The scroll in his gloved hands is tied shut with golden silk, and Guang-Hong resists the urge to sneeze as it slips free from its knot, freeing the fresh scent of an unfamiliar flower. The messenger clears their throat, and Guang-Hong feels his heart sink lower in his chest. 

_ Dear Prince Guang-Hong Ji. _

_ Guang-Hong Ji. How your name falls like a song from my lips, like the finest melodies preserved for all of eternity. Even now, I find myself humming it every hour of every day, and I fear that when you arrive, you will enter to a nation of people singing your very name as a soothing lullaby. We only met once, briefly, on that magical night two years ago, where the drink and food and music flowed freely, but not your smiles. Are they so rare? If so, it would be my greatest honour if I were able to make you smile day after day, hour after hour, until you can no longer think of me without fondness. So tell me, Guang-Hong, if I may be permitted to call you so, what makes you smile and laugh, cry and rage? What fills your head with curiosity and wonder? What kind of person are you? _

_ Yours, _

_ Crown Prince Phichit Chulanont. _

Guang-Hong’s mouth falls open into a gasp, the chatter and barely hushed whispers around him rising as a crescendo.

_ Oh. This is not what I expected. _

 

* * *

 

“Leo, this is phenomenal! Truly the work of an Iglesia scholar!”

The scroll rolls closed to reveal Crown Prince Phichit Chulanont’s delighted smile, and despite himself, Leo de la Iglesia returns the gesture as a servant hurriedly spirits the letter away, the curtains in the doorway rattling with a finality as they saunter out. Outside, the distant roar of the ocean drifts in through the open windows, and Leo sighs, the scent of laburnum flowers heavy in his lungs as he slumps down on the desk to rest his head on his folded arms.

“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just copy your letters to Prince Seung-Gil, and address it to Gu—  _ Prince _ Guang-Hong, instead.”

If Phichit notices the slip, he hides it well beneath a smiling scoff, his hands reaching out to delicately play with a stray flower on the desk, one that Leo recognises as a hibiscus from Prince Seung-Gil’s kingdom. “And rob my good friend of the chance to earn good coin and my gratitude while they’re studying here? Perish the thought.”

Leo hums, “I thought that I already had your gratitude when you recommended I be allowed to stay for more than the customary two years. More importantly though, what if he recognises me in my words to him?”

Phichit cocks his head. “Do you want him to recognise that it’s you?”

Leo winces as hope colours his words, his heart fluttering despite himself. “There’s always that small chance.”

Phichit chuckles, his dark eyes sparking with the mischief that Leo had long since become accustomed to. “I thought the heirs to the Ji Kingdom were forbidden from receiving informal letters from outsiders?”

The flush on Leo’s cheeks spreads to the planes of his chest, the phantom sensation of Guang-Hong tucked against his side flooding his body with a welcoming warmth. “I may have showed him some of my notes and research before I left...”

Leo rubs at the ink on his wrist, closing his eyes at the memory of a softer smaller hand shyly dabbing the mess away, when Phichit clears his throat, his voice barely audible over the soft breeze and the sea. 

“I didn’t want to lie to Prince Guang-Hong with emotions that I don’t feel for him. And I could never betray Seung-Gil by using my words to him like that. That’s the real reason, Leo.” 

His eyes are downcast when Leo turns to look at him, the hibiscus clutched tightly to his chest when he speaks again, his words escaping as a resigned sigh.

“Seung-gil’s kingdom is powerful, yes, but it’s also on the other side of the sea, and smaller besides. My wishes never had a hope.”

Leo sucks in a shaky breath, the image of Guang-Hong’s tear-streaked face pressed tightly against his chest as they bid one another goodbye filling his mind.

“Neither did mine.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Tokens of Favour: A flower, dropped at an event. A present, delivered to the doorstep. Messages — of all mediums — connecting us even when we aren’t together.

_ You can do this. It is only a gift. Hopefully the first of many. _

The doors to the room slide open with the faintest rumble, as his mind supplies, and Prince Seung-Gil Lee, first of his name and heir apparent to the throne wrinkles his nose at the pungent scent of medicinal herbs as he slips into the darkened room. Behind him, the doors slide shut with the faintest click, the figure in the bedroll at the opposite end of the room shuffling around with a faint moan as the servant beside them drops to press their brow to the floor. Seung-Gil huffs, his free hand motioning for the servant to rise as the figure in the bedroll lets out another muffled moan, the silhouette of a limb flopping onto the material barely visible as the blankets are promptly pushed away to reveal the sweat-tacky face of the Chulanont Kingdom’s Pride and Joy. Despite the greasy black bangs clinging to his forehead, and the glassiness in his uncharacteristically dull eyes, the weak smile stretching across Prince Phichit’s lips remains bright, and Seung-Gil forces a swallow, his pulse all too loud in his ears.

“Prince Phichit Chulanont.”

The heat in his cheeks grows with Prince Phichit’s smile, one arm sweeping out dramatically as he slowly pushes himself up to sit.

“Prince Seung-Gil Lee. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company-”

Seung-Gil grimaces as Prince Phichit keels over, his shoulders shaking with the force of his cough, the servant already rushing to press a cup to his lips.  _ The doctors assured me that he would be mostly recovered by now! Were they wrong? Perhaps a bad batch- _

“I beg your pardon, Prince Seung-Gil, you were saying?”

Seung-Gil clears his throat. “You are recovering well?”

Prince Phichit raises an eyebrow, his teeth flashing as he throws his head back, his chuckles raising butterflies in Seung-Gil’s stomach. “I am recovering, I suppose. Thank you for your kindness by the way. The medication here tastes slightly better than the medication from home.”

“Of course.”

The silence returns back with a vengeance, much like the aftermath of an incorrectly answered question, or poorly explained formula, and Seung-Gil swallows, his grip tightening around the book in his hand.

_ You are the heir to this Kingdom. Act like it. _

“Here.” The servant barely bites back a yelp when Seung-Gil thrusts out the gift, and he curses internally as Prince Phichit’s eyes grow wide, his hands tightening into fists before relaxing.  _ Stay calm. _

“A treatise on mathematics, written by our Kingdom’s finest scholars. I hope it relieves you of some of the boredom of being confined to your rooms.”

Prince Phichit laughs, the sound trailing off into a raspy croak that still manages to sound soothing to Seung-Gil’s ears.  “Thank you for your consideration, Prince Seung-Gil.”

_ There, all done. _

“I wish you a speedy recovery.”

Prince Phichit snorts, his fingers smoothing out across the paper. “I wish myself a speedy recovery too.”

He laughs, the sound tumbling from his lips before he can think to choke it away, and Seung-Gil grimaces as he claps a hand over his mouth, the fabric of his sleeve sticking to his tongue.  _ I should have changed after visiting the doctors- _

Seung-Gil’s arm drops away at the giggle that echoes around the room, the servant’s face turned carefully away as Prince Phichit clutches at his sides, his eyes shut from the force of his smile; one that rivals the one that Prince Phichit had given him at their first meeting a week ago. 

“Laughter is a good sound from you, Prince Seung-Gil. I am privileged to hear it.”

Heat floods across Seung-Gil’s cheeks as he ducks his head into a quick nod. 

“Have a good day, Prince Phichit.”

_ Laughter is a good sound from you. _

He spends the remainder of the afternoon holed up in his rooms, the only indication of his presence a steady stream of squawks, guffaws, and grumbles that leak out between the gaps of the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Freedom: Who would we be, if we were not who we are? (FREE DAY)

_ Dearest Guang-Hong, _

_ You may of course, address me however you wish. It is your right after all, as the person who is marrying me. Just the thought of you whispering my name into my ear as we stroll around like times of old is enough to send my heart a-fluttering, and I hope to be able to do the same to you one day as well. I am glad that my letter conjured so many happy memories for you; it warms me to think that our meeting at your birthday celebration was of such great significance to you. You said you liked sweet things in your letter, and it seems that we are of a similar mind! I cannot wait to relearn the taste of every dessert with you now. Truth be told, I have been told that you were a little bit of a brat, but it does not change my opinion of you in any way. In fact, I am glad that you are not the portrait perfect Prince I keep being told about. I want you, Guang-Hong, not that portrait on paper. The one who shares my love of art and music, and the one who is apparently an active learner of dance and martial arts besides. Would you care to share some of these dances with me? _

_ Yours, _

_ Phichit. _

 

* * *

 

“They say that Prince Guang-Hong sobbed in despair when his betrothal to Crown Prince Chulanont was announced.”

“You would never know it now, with how fast he replies to those letters!”

“And all that research he’s been doing in the library! I swear he studies harder for these letters than he does for his lessons!”

“I’m not surprised! Who wouldn’t be in love with someone who writes like that?”

“It’s good that it turned out this way. I remember how devastated he was that day, so it’s nice to know that it’s true love after all.”

“Truly a love story for the ages!”

 

* * *

 

_ My dearest, Guang-Hong, _

_ I have something to confess. Ever since your first reply, I have dreamt of nothing but peonies, and their scent follows me into my waking moments, until I can do nothing without being reminded of you. Not that I can ever forget you, not while I still sing and sigh your name to all who are near me. But what else could be expected from a fellow lover of music? I still remember walking alone through the Palace gardens in the moonlight, and it seems only right that their loveliness would match that of their Prince. Is this a sign that our union will be a happy one? I really hope that it is. Do you dream of me as well? Does the scent of laburnum follow your every step, be it waking or in dream? I still cannot believe that it has been weeks since we have started writing to one another. I wish that it did not take them a week to arrive, but at the same time, I am glad: for I can think of all the more things to share with you. I read a most intriguing history on one of the songs to be played at our wedding the other day, and I hope to play that song for you upon your arrival. They fit perfectly with that dance that you wrote to me about. What do you say to a marriage of these two as well? _

_ Fondly Yours, _

_ Phichit _

 

* * *

 

_ Guests were lead on guided tours of the garden during the first day of the celebrations, when their beauty could be viewed at their height. An excursion was arranged for the viewing of the stars at our Kingdom’s famous Observatory that same night, and many a guest, in particular Prince Phichit Chulanont praised the structures and the apparatuses used. Activities throughout the week were arranged so that no place was ever visited twice, and in the days that proceeded- _

Guang-Hong sucks in a breath, ignoring the muscles of his dry throat, the neat handwriting of the Imperial Scribe shaking before his eyes as he brings the scroll closer to his face, coughing at the sharp scent of faded ink.

_ Guests were required to be accompanied by a servant and a member of Their Majesties’ household at all times… _

He doesn’t even bother to hide his squeak as he leaps from his seat, the protests of his cramped muscles fading away with every jump around the room!

_ Prince Phichit never had an opportunity to visit the gardens at night! And especially not alone! W-Which means...he didn’t write the letter like I suspected! Unless, he snuck out... _

Briefly Guang-Hong imagines Prince Phichit stealing away from his rooms all clad in black like a thief to steal a glimpse of the famous gardens in the moonlight, followed by the indignant shouts and yells of the guards, and he giggles, clutching the scroll to his chest as he spins on the spot.  _ Just like when Leo came to visit that night- _

“Your Highness!”

He yelps at the familiar set of knocks at the door, biting back his wince as he stumbles backwards into a table, one hand sweeping out to steady himself. Even through the heavy wooden doors, the high-pitched giggles of the servants are audible, and Guang-Hong gulps at the sound of a pointed cough. “Y-Yes, Yi Xiao?”

“Your family is requesting your presence for dinner.”

Despite the monotone voice, he can hear the smile all the same, the quivering corners of Yi Xiao’s lips flashing through his mind, and his own mouth curling upwards into a grin. “I’ll be right there! Please give me a moment!”

“Understood. And your Highness?” 

“Y-Yes, Yi Xiao?”

“Don’t forget to wash your hands and face as well unless you want a repetition of last week.”

 

* * *

 

_ Leo loves music for certain, but then again every single guest seemed to enjoy it too. Prince Phichit certainly did from what I could see. And everyone likes desserts! _

“Guang-Hong?”

_ I barely went on strolls with Prince Phichit though, and he didn’t seem to mean it as part of a group. And the only one I’ve been on strolls with and who might be in the Chulanont Kingdom is... _

“Guang-Hong!”

_ Everyone knows that I like dance and martial arts though! It’s not just Leo who- _

“Son.”

_ No one else has ever called me a brat! Especially not Prince Phichit! Even Leo only called me a kid when we first met! But I guess it’s close enough- _

“Is something on your mind?”

Guang-Hong jumps, his chopsticks threatening to tumble from his fingers before he tightens his grip. Across from him, his brother snorts, hiding his smirk behind a large mouthful of meat, and Guang-Hong wrinkles his nose at him. 

“Your food is cold.”

Sure enough, the steam from his bowl of rice is long gone, the grains themselves cold and hard when he forces himself to take a mouthful, the sauces oily and tacky on his tongue as he swallows.

“I’m sorry. I was distracted.”

His Father chuckles, the deep yellow of his robes warm and comforting under the lamplight, and Guang-Hong squeaks at the stray grains of rice caught in his thin beard. “It is nerves, nothing more. There is nothing to forgive.”

Guang-Hong cocks his head, ignoring his brother’s eyebrow raise. “Nerves?”

His Mother sighs, a smile tugging at her lips as she turns towards him, her fingers as careful and fleeting as ever against his cheek. “Your own official announcement is in two weeks. I trust that you are prepared? Your second brother is returning just for the occasion as well.”

_ Two weeks. I have two weeks. I only have two weeks. _

“Guang-Hong?”

His knuckles are white around the chopsticks, the metal digging red indents into his palms, and he winces, his smile shaky when he looks up to meet his family’s gaze. “Don’t worry! I will be ready.”

If possible, the rice is even harder against his teeth as he picks up his chopsticks to continue eating, warmth draining from his body with every bite.

_ Two weeks. _

 

* * *

 

 _It has to be Leo. It has to be. No one else would know those things._ _But they could have reached Prince Phichit through gossip and rumour too I guess._

The first of the robes falls onto his shoulders, the goosebumps on his skin protesting at the cool fabric.

_ I don’t even know where Leo is! He might not even be there! And he can only stay for two years at most, anyway! So if he went there immediately after leaving here... _

Already, the cool silk is growing warm, the tiniest amount of tension easing from Guang-Hong’s shoulders as he sighs.

_ But that writing...I’ve definitely seen it before in Leo’s works! It’ll be a really good imitation if it wasn’t him. _

“Please lift your hands, your Highness.”

_ Not to mention, would Prince Phichit write so informally to me? He doesn’t even know me that well! Unless he wanted me to feel at ease… _

He sneezes as he sticks his head out through the neck of the final layer of his clothes, a comb immediately running through his hair, accompanied by Yi Xiao’s sharp  _ tuts _ .

_ But Prince Phichit won’t know about being alone in the gardens in the moonlight! There’s no way he would know! There’s no way anyone else in his party would have known. It has to be Leo! It has to be! _

He jumps at the warm fingers pressed against his cheek, the stifled gasps of the maids echoing in his ears as he meets Yi Xiao’s gaze, a shiver running down his spine despite the warmth in her deep brown eyes.

“Do you need more time, your Highness?”

“B-But everyone’s waiting…”

Yi Xiao snorts. “We have time, your Highness. Why do you think I woke you up so early for?”

Even the maids are unable to hide their squawks of laughter as Guang-Hong steps into Yi Xiao’s arms, his shoulders shaking with the force of his chuckles, the tension seeping away from his muscles with every slow pat over his hair.

“I can’t stop this marriage from happening, your Highness, but I can give you time to gather yourself.”

_ Can’t stop this marriage from happening...wait. _

Guang-Hong swallows, his arms tightening around Yi Xiao’s waist. “I think I’m as ready as I can be.”

 

* * *

 

“For the past few weeks, we have seen the exchanging of public love letters between my son Prince Guang-Hong, first of his name, and his betrothed, Crown Prince Phichit Chulanont of the Chulanont Kingdom.” 

_ Leo, did you really... _

“We have seen their love bloom with every exchange. We have all heard of the tales and songs now sung throughout both of our kingdoms that celebrate the two of them.” 

His Mother smiles, and Guang-Hong swallows, his nails digging into the wood of his throne.

“And now, I believe my son has something to announce.”

_ It has to be him. It has to be him. It has to be him. _

Guang-Hong takes in a deep breath, the shaking of his shoulders fading away as he rises to his feet before the gathered crowd.

_ There’s nothing to lose.  _

“I cannot wait to wed the writer of those letters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I finished writing this at nearly 3 in the morning, so please let me know if I missed anything!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Intrigue and Scandal: An affair is exposed, politicians and courtiers vie for favour. This world exists in a gilded cage — can we survive it?

_ Dear Crown Prince Phichit Chulanont, _

_ I congratulate you on your upcoming marriage, and wish you all the happiness from across the sea. Please pass on my gratitude to your parents for inviting me to the event. Feel free to keep that treatise on mathematics from so long ago; it will be a fine respite from my wedding gift when I arrive. _

_ Yours, _

_ Prince Seung-Gil Lee _

 

The letter falls onto the table with the slightest of whispers to disappear into the ocean of paper strewn across it, the noise deafening to Phichit’s ears all the same, as his fingers slowly curl into fists, his shoulders trembling with every slow even breath.

“You invited Se-Prince Seung-Gil to the wedding? That’s just cruel.”

Across from him, his Mother sighs, one hand reaching up to rub at her temple, the faintest smudges of ink visible on her wrists, her free hand shuffling a separate pile of notes.

“He needs to know that this dangerous correspondence between the two of you is well and truly over, and the wedding will provide us with an opportunity to do just that. It’ll be better and safer for everyone that way.”

Phichit scoffs, “Better for everyone? His Kingdom is just as powerful as-”

“And an ocean away and smaller besides. We’ve talked about this before.”

For the briefest of moments, he can see a flash of sadness tinge his Mother’s eyes and the downturned corners of her mouth before she shakes her head, her lips pursing together as she returns her attention to the notes in her hand.

“Think of our people, Phichit. We need this marriage. Those letters of yours already threaten that.”

Phichit huffs, his throat growing tighter with every shaky breath. “We need  _ a _ marriage, but there was still no need to-”

The crinkling of paper in his Mother’s trembling grip sends shivers down his spine. “Your betrothed already made his official announcement, so it will be this marriage, it seems. Now get back to work.”

 

* * *

 

_ Seung-Gil’s probably on his way over here by now. And when he arrives... _

Phichit clutches the letter closer to his chest with a sniff, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over once again as he slumps down onto the desk between the towers of notes and preparations, the wood refreshingly cool against his warm and tacky skin.  The faint sea breeze provides him with little comfort, the scent of fresh ink mixing with the ever-present one of laburnum, and Phichit sighs, his own handwriting blurring before his very eyes, until he can no longer distinguish it from Guang-Hong’s, a lump forming in his throat at the very thought.

_ I’m so sorry Guang-Hong. I should have been honest from the start. You don’t deserve to be hurt like this, especially since you’re in love with m-the writer of the letters. Who isn’t me. _

Phichit snorts, pressing his face into the table.  _ Now you’ve really done it. _

“Your Highness? Can I get you anything?”

If the servant notices the letter or the wilted hibiscus cradled in his hands, they say nothing, their head bowing low as Phichit turns in his seat to look at them, grin at the ready.

“Please leave me alone for now. I would like to finish my work.”

He waits for the telltale rattling of the curtains and the footsteps to fade before he pushes aside a generous stack of Court meeting notes, the dust flying into the air punching a sneeze from him as he pulls out the box from beneath its blanket of a map. Phichit trials his fingers over the lock, the letters and correspondence to the far ends of the Kingdom and the World alike nestled within amongst ribbon and silk vivid in his mind, the ones sealed with a stamp of hibiscus the brightest of all, and he swallows.

_ I want to rule this Kingdom fairly, but I can’t do that if I can’t even be fair to my betrothed...or Seung-Gil by lying like this. _

“Phichit?”

He nearly jumps at the sight of Leo’s head poking in through the curtains, a flurry of letter shifting from the movement as he forces himself to breathe once more. “Leo? What are you doing here?”

Leo cocks his head, his arms tightening around the large amount of scrolls cradled to his chest as he shuffles into the room. “Returning the things I borrowed from you; those wedding pieces really are as beautiful as everyone said they would be. Sorry for scaring you like that by the way.” His mouth twists into a grimace, his deep brown eyes rapidly blinking, and Phichit’s chest aches at the sight, the wood beneath his palm seeming to burn. “Do you need any more help with the letters?”

“I’m sorry, Leo.”

He presses on before Leo has a chance to shut his gaping mouth, a stray scroll tumbling to the carpet at his feet. “I know I said I didn’t want to lie to Prince Guang-Hong or betray Seung-Gil, but it’s happened all the same. And I’m sorry I asked you to write those letters; I took advantage of your feelings without meaning to.”

Leo snorts, “You gave me the chance to live out a fantasy though. What other scholar could say that of their relationship with a prince?”

“It was still wrong of me to take advantage of that. Which is why I’m going to make things right.”

His nails clack sharply against metal, and Leo frowns as he takes in the box beside him for the first time. “Make things right?”

Phichit sucks in a breath, his eyes scanning the doorway through the curtains before continuing. “What my parents and I did is not fair to Prince Guang-Hong or to Seung-Gil. And it’s not fair to you.”

He fishes the key from an inner pocket in his clothes, the metal gleaming brightly in the sun before he pushes it into the lock with a click.

“The reason why this box is locked, and the key carried on my body, is because it contains all of my correspondence. All of it.”

Realisation flashes in Leo’s ever-widening eyes as Phichit turns the key, the rattling of the tumblers unbearably loud, second only to the pulse in his own heart.

“I want to make things right. Will you help me, Leo?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Mentors, Advisors, and Servants: From close friends and confidantes to prying eyes and institutional barriers, these people can facilitate great change, or pose deadly challenges.

“Yi Xiao, do you think I’m making the right decision?”

“I think continuing on with this marriage despite a scandal involving your betrothed and the Prince of another country takes a great deal of courage and love,” Yi Xiao’s face twitches as she stabs the needle into her embroidery, and Guang-Hong winces at the tautness of the deep red thread as she yanks it through. “But I trust you to make your own decisions, your Highness.”

Yi Xiao’s jaw tightens, and Guang-Hong gulps, shuffling in his seat to pull his knees up to his chest, his cramped muscles already protesting at the movement. “T-Thank you.”

The downturned corners of Yi Xiao’s mouth quirk upwards, the hardness in her eyes fading as her fingers still in her work, one hand moving to pat the basket beside her. “Would you like me to get you anything, your Highness? Something to eat? Drink? Read?”

“My letters, please.”

Yi Xiao sighs, her lips pursing together. “You have done nothing but read them over and over again since the start of our journey, your Highness. Are you sure?”

Guang-Hong smiles, the memory of his proclamation warming his body down to his very bones as he rests his head on his knees. “I’m in love with him.”

The straw of the basket crushes easily beneath Yi Xiao’s grip, the faint rustling barely hidden by the clicking of hooves as she snarls, “Prince Phichit does not deserve your love, your Highness, not after what he’s done.”

Guang-Hong forces a breath into his lungs, the fabric sticking to the tacky skin of his palms as he clenches at the silk of his sleeves. “I said I couldn’t wait to wed the writer of these letters, and that’s still true.”

Yi Xiao frowns. “But Prince Phich-Oh. I see. I should have known.”

The sudden queasiness in his stomach has nothing to do with the gentle rocking of their carriage, the sweat beading on his nape unrelated to the stuffiness of the space, the loud beating of his heart not from the excitement of a groom-to-be but from the impassive face of Yi Xiao when he finally meets her eyes.

“Y-Yi Xiao?”

The tension in Guang-Hong’s shoulders eases at her soft chuckle, blood rushing back into his fingers as he loosens his grip around his legs. “I knew I should have trusted my intuition when you spent day after day in the library looking at the official records.”

Guang-Hong’s jaw drops open, before he hurriedly shuts it again at Yi Xiao’s pointed glance. “Y-You knew?”

Something lodges in his throat at the softness in her gaze, his eyes widening as her lips “Prince Guang-Hong, I have had the pleasure and privilege to raise you, and watch you grow throughout these years, and I could not be prouder of the person that I see before me today. But raising you has also made me privy to many things, including the ability to read your handwriting.” 

Heat flushes through Guang-Hong’s cheeks as he sinks deeper into his seat with a groan.  _ My notes…I must have left them- _

Yi Xiao grins, her teeth flashing even in the dimmed brightness of the carriage. “If it is of any consolation, your Highness, your handwriting is much improved from when you were a child.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Do you think I’m making the right decision now, Yi Xiao?”

He jumps at the sudden warm hand on his cheek, the palms calloused from years of hard work, but Guang-Hong clutches it closer all the same, his lips trembling as Yi Xiao takes a deep breath. “As the head of your household, I would have some very stern words with you.” 

The hand on his cheek tightens before he can think to look away, and Guang-Hong sucks in a breath at the wet sheen over Yi Xiao’s eyes, her voice thick as she continues, “But as the person who had the honour of raising you, and watching you grow into this fine young man, I only wish you all the happiness in the world, and I could not be prouder of your actions in pursuing it.”

He can smell the faint tang of salt in the air as Yi Xiao leans closer to pull him into the loose hug of his childhood, and Guang-Hong sniffs as he closes his eyes “T-thank you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Happily Ever After: A fairytale apotheosis. A dream come true. We craft a new beginning today, in our promises and our connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I would like to apologise for the massive delay in getting this chapter up! I started a new internship right at the tail end of the yoiroyaltyweek, and caught a cold on top of that, and I have only recently been able to carve out time for myself again! Anyway, I hope this 2,300 word chapter makes up for something!

There is a Royal Entourage to receive him when he arrives, the colours of their uniform bright in the sun, and Seung-Gil blinks at the shaky smiles, the wide eyes, and scattering of coughs as he steps off of the boat, the solid ground a welcome sensation after the week and a half at sea.

_ I prefer their bored expressions to this. At least they weren’t interested in me before. _

“P-Prince Seung-Gil. Welcome.”

Seung-Gil raises an eyebrow, frowning at the flush that decorates the guard’s cheeks as they quickly look away, their gloved hands fumbling to pull open the curtain for their carriage. 

_ Was that awe that I heard? That could become annoying. _

It isn’t until Min-So stutters out a cough from behind him that he takes in his surroundings for the first time, his mouth dropping open with a barely audible gasp. The delicate designs carved into the structure are a far cry from the bare unornamented wood of his first visit, the seats themselves embroidered with intricate designs of elephants and laburnum flowers, the golden threads shimmering in the sunlight. 

“Prince Seung-Gil? Shall we proceed?”

He can hear the frown in Min-So’s clipped words, and he sighs, ducking his head as he enters the carriage, the familiar scent of laburnum mixing with that of the sea. The cushions are soft and plump, a relief on his sore muscles after the thinly padded wooden benches of the previous week and a half, and Seung-Gil’s eyes widen as he fingers brush along the edge of a thickly folded letter buried between the gaps, his nails tracing over the familiar laburnum seal.

_ This should be interesting. _

 

* * *

 

“Please welcome Prince Guang-Hong Ji, first of his name and betrothed of Crown Prince Chulanont!”

The gazes on him are as stifling as a humid Summer’s day despite the fresh sea breeze blowing in through the open windows, and Guang-Hong sucks in a shaky breath, his palms already moist with sweat as the gathered crowd drops into a bow like a rippling wave. 

_ If one more person looks at me pityingly again, it will be too soon.  _

He can see the faintest hint of a smile in Yi-Xiao’s eyes in the corner of his vision when he manages keeps his face blissfully blank, his steps shaky and shuffling along the pristine floor with loud  _ schweeps _ despite his best efforts.

_ You’ve had more attention on you before! Stay calm! Don’t look! Stay focused! You’re here for one thing, and one thing only! _

The warm golden yellow of his own robes pale in comparison to the vibrant blue, white, and reds of those in attendance, and Guang-Hong traces at the brocade at the hems of his sleeves with a gulp, as the snatches of gossip filter through the soft sighs of the breeze to reach his ears.

“How honourable of Prince-”

“He must be heartbroken-”

“Knew what he was getting into-”

“I heard that he’s got a lover of his-”

_ Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. _

Guang-Hong starts at the familiar gentle nudge to his ribs, the tension leaving his shoulders with the sensation, and only his training and the half hearted glare in Yi Xiao’s gaze keep it from returning, as he holds his head higher, his lips stretching into a shaky smile.

_ You can do this. _

The bright garlands of peonies and laburnum strewn across the platform and on the thrones of the Chulanont Royal Family leap for his attention as he slowly approaches the dais, their combined scents engulfing him like a wave of steam, the gazes of the surrounding crowd growing heavier with every inhale. In the ample sunlight, the eye bags and pinched smiles on the faces of the King and Queen are plain to see, and Guang-Hong ducks his head into a bow, the beads on his crown joining the rattling of the wind chimes. 

“Your Majesties. Prince Phichit. It is an honour to meet you once again.”

The words stick in his throat as he scans the feet of the crowd gathered near the throne, and Guang-Hong huffs internally at the expanse of jewelled sandals, silk slippers, and fine leather boots.

_ I should have taken a look around the room earlier- _

“The honour is all mine, Prince Guang-Hong. I wish we had reunited under...happier circumstances, but we are happy to see you again, all the same. Please rise.” 

He looks up in time to see the Queen’s pointed glare at Prince Phichit, and Guang-Hong barely represses his squeak as a chorus of coughs echoes throughout the room, the unfamiliar faces sending another tremor down his spine. 

“Prince Guang-Hong, before we begin with the appropriate proceedings, my son, your  _ betrothed _ has something that he...needs to say.”

Despite the frustration in the Queen’s gaze, Prince Phichit nods enthusiastically, the mischief in his eyes a direct contrast to his downturned mouth, and Guang-Hong sucks in a shaky breath as the crowd huddled near the platform part with a rumbling of murmurs and grumbles.

“You must be aware of the scandal around myself and Prince Seung-Gil, and for that I would like to apologise for the harm and humiliation caused to you.”

His hand sweeps outwards as he drops into a low bow, his movements regal despite the frowns of the court, and Guang-Hong sucks in a shaky breath, his legs trembling beneath his weight as he takes Yi Xiao’s offered arm. 

“But I would like you to hear this last letter all the same. May I present, the esteemed scholar, Leo de la Iglesia, to recite it.”

 

_ He hasn’t changed a single bit.  _

Even engulfed in the glowing golden finery of his birthright, Guang-Hong stands tall; a far cry from the crying boy he had met all those years ago, his face no longer hiding in the shadow of his crown, and Leo gulps, the paper threatening to stick to his tacky palms as he steps forward.

“Your Highness. It is an honour to meet you once again, and an even greater one to recite this to you.”

It’s strange to bow to Guang-Hong, and Leo grits his teeth at the realisation that he’s bowing to  _ Prince _ Guang-Hong, first of his name, and third in line to the throne of the Ji Kingdom, and not to the boy who had walked by his side on moonless and moonlit nights alike, the boy who had snuck out the most revered of music booklets for him, the boy who had sobbed and begged him to stay so long ago. The audience around them adds weights on his shoulders, but for once Leo is glad, for it hides his shaky breath before he straightens, the unfurling of the scroll barely audible over the pounding in his ears.

 

_ Guang-Hong, _

_ It seems as though it was only yesterday when we started writing to one another, when I first rediscovered the sweetness of peonies, when my love for you grew even stronger, as if it had never faded at all for those years we were apart. Every time we wrote, I could only picture us having a happy life together, my dreams filled with the music of your voice and laughter, my nights brightened by the sunlight of your smile, and all of my days forever filled with the joy of being with you. _

The muscles of his throat dry in an instant, and Leo chokes on the last words of the sentence, his chest heaving for breath as he forces himself to stand straight, to keep his gaze on Guang-Hong’s face. Already, frowns are blooming on the faces of his audience out of the corner of his eyes; weeds sprouting in a blossoming garden, and his fingers tighten in their grip around the scroll, as he clears his throat. 

_ I can only hope that you feel the same for me, even after what I have done. I should have never lied in the first place, and for that I must beg for your forgiveness. I should have been truthful in my intentions from the very beginning, and saved you the pain of falling in love with someone who was not who he appeared to be. For that, I can only hope to atone by promising you the love I write of so long ago; the only thing I have left to offer to you now, if you forgive me. _

 

If the weight of his audience’s gazes had been heavy before, it is nothing compared to the crushing pressure on his chest that squeezes every breath from his body as he rerolls the scroll, the layers uneven and crooked as he places it into the waiting hands of the servant beside him. There’s nothing to hide his shaky breaths when he drops into another low bow, with not even a whisper or a shuffling of feet rippling through the crowd. Even the rush of the waves drifting through the open windows seem muted, and Leo gulps, his eyes sliding shut as the silence drags on and on like the tides, a belt tightening around his chest with every second.

“P-Please rise.”

The sunlight gleams off of the wet sheen over Guang-Hong’s eyes when Leo slowly looks back up, the gasps of the crowd falling away when Guang-Hong stumbles forward in a flurry of fabric, his hands sinking into the front of Leo’s tunic, the pressure better than even the hugs of his memories. “I-It really was you who wrote the letters, wasn’t it, Leo?”

_ H-How did he? _

Leo swallows, his own hands reaching up to wrap warmly around Guang-Hong’s, the scent of peonies filling his lungs as he sucks in a shaky breath. “Gua-Prince Guang-Hong-”

Guang-Hong sniffs, the corners of his lips trembling as he presses closer, his brown eyes seeming to glow in the sunlight, the dark flecks in his pupils shimmering from the thin gloss of tears. “Leo, please tell me the truth. Please.”

Leo’s heart leaps into his throat, its rhythm faster than even the most energetic of festival dances, “Prince-” 

Guang-Hong shakes his head, his eyes clenching shut before he reopens them, the determination in them burning Leo like sun-warmed metal. “Guang-Hong. It’s always been Guang-Hong for you.”

_ That’s right. _

The tightness in his chest and shoulders drains away with a chuckle, the hushed mutterings of their audience barely reaching Leo’s ears as he bends down to press their foreheads together, “Yes.”

Guang-Hong beams, a sob choking its way out of his lips as tears spill down his cheeks, the droplets warm against the pad of Leo’s thumb as he reaches up to brush them away. “Thank goodness.”

The gasps rise to a crescendo, but Leo pays them no heed as Guang-Hong rises to the tips of his toes, warm breath fanning over his chin before their mouths meet in a kiss. Contrary to myths and folktales, no heavenly ballad starts playing as Guang-Hong’s fingers tighten in his tunic to pull himself closer, a pandemonium of yells replacing the usual rejoicing and festivity when Leo slowly teases Guang-Hong’s mouth open with a sigh, until they become a song entirely their own.

 

It’ll take an age to calm the howling masses later, but currently Guang-Hong couldn’t care less as Prince Phichit’s hoots and cheers cut through the confusion, the King and Queen no doubt rising to their feet to join the raucous. The longing in his veins reignites with a vengeance as he sucks greedily on Leo’s tongue, his fingers no doubt turning white in their grip on Leo’s tunic, his legs trembling with the effort to keep himself on his toes even when Leo slips an arm around his waist to take away some of the pressure. Not even Yi Xiao clearing her throat can entice him to stop, his head growing dizzy from want of air before he finally pulls away with a faint  _ pop _ , heat flooding through his face as the scene around them finally swims back into focus. 

The neat organised lines and sections of Chulanont and foreign nobility alike have long since dissolved, the bright blue of the guards’ uniforms barely visible amongst the crush of colours, their tightly linked arms barely holding back the surge of the crowd, their cries for calm ignored by all. He can see Prince Phichit sprawled on the seat of his throne over Leo’s shoulder, his eyes clenched shut from his wide smile, his sleeves fluttering like a bird in flight with the force of his applause, as their Majesties’ shouts for silence and order go unnoticed. Only one man remains stoic in the face of the chaos, one black brow perfectly arched, and arms crossed around the colourful fabric of his chest. Guang-Hong narrows his eyes as the man looks towards Prince Phichit, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards and a smile flashing in his deep black eyes before slipping into careful blankness, and Guang-Hong’s breath catches in his chest at the sight of the hibiscus designs embroidered on his clothing when he uncrosses his arms.  _ That must be- _

Yi Xiao coughs once more, and Guang-Hong spies the briefest flash of a grin before she ducks her head into a bow. “Prince Guang-Hong, would you care to explain the meaning of this?”

As if on cue, Prince Phichit rises to his feet, regal in his ceremonial robes of red and gold, a simple clapping of his hands silencing the entire room, as his voice rings out to its far corners. “I believe Prince Guang-Hong now has something he needs to say.”

The heat in Guang-Hong’s cheeks grows warmer at Prince Phichit’s quick wink, the quiet and sudden attention drilling into his shoulders made bearable by Leo by his side, and he sucks in a deep breath, one hand slipping into Leo’s as he turns around. 

_ You can do this. The two of you can do this. _

“Your Majesties, Prince Phichit, I apologise for my actions, but I was only fulfilling my promise to my people, and the one you agreed to,” His hand tightens around Leo’s, laughter bubbling in his chest as he holds them high. “To marry the writer of the wonderful letters addressed to me.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s not an easy task to convince an entire room of the finest of the nobility, that the third-in-line to the throne of the Ji Kingdom was to marry a simple scholar, no matter how impassioned a declaration said third-in-line royal member to the throne makes. Or so, Seung-Gil assumes up until Prince Guang-Hong’s attendant points out the sacred aspect of the promise made to their people, her amusement clear in her bright eyes and soft smile in a way that Min-So never would, and even he can’t repress his huff of laughter.

_ So they prepared for this after all. How in love and full of hope young Prince Guang-Hong must have been to do so. _

It’s clear that he’s not the only person of this mind as he slowly scans the room, rolling his eyes at the obvious tears on the faces of Prince Nikiforov, and one of his attendants, at the shy smiles of Prince Katsuki and his entourage. By the time, Phichit speaks, his gaze darting to meet his every now and again, the gathered crowd are nodding along with gaping jaws and furrowed brows, Phichit’s clear explanations ringing throughout the hall until even the exhaustion on their Majesties’ faces are hidden behind their hands. Seung-Gil snorts, his mind already flashing back to the sheet of paper tucked between the pages of a treatise of mathematics as claps slowly ripple out across the room for the happy couple in the middle.

_ Good thing you let me know in advance so I could make the appropriate preparations. Hopefully even the first draft conveys all the necessary details. _

He doesn’t stay to wish them congratulations like the majority of the crowd, Prince Guang-Hong quietly mirroring his slow nod before he slips out of the room with Min-So by his side, a sigh slipping past his lips as the chatter softens with the solid  _ thump _ of the door, the loudest of the whispers disappearing completely by the time he reaches his rooms.

“You looked like you were about to fall asleep at some point, your Highness.”

Seung-Gil snorts, his footsteps quiet on soft carpet as he makes his way over to the desk stacked high with paper. “You know I don’t care for court business or gossip.”

Min-So sighs, “Not even when it involves you?

“Especially when it involves me.”

The beating of his heart speeds up painfully at the shuffle of familiar footsteps, the laughter in the voice obvious even through a door. “And what if it involves us?”

“Prince Chulanont!”

Seung-Gil chuckles, his fingers already flipping through the pages of a familiar book, sparks running through his veins as the door opens. “I guess that would depend on the situation, and how it can be solved.”

Heat flows through his cheeks at the smile in Phichit’s voice, the sound more pleasant than chalk on slate. “Laughter really is a good sound from you.”

He shrugs off Min-So’s raised brows at the treatise clutched in his hand as he rises to his feet with a deep breath. “I have you to thank for that, I believe.”

Even with his hair in disarray, and his royal robes rumpled, Phichit still strikes him breathless, his smile wide and honest as he steps forward, his eyes wide when he takes in the title of the booklet. “Is that?”

Seung-Gil hums, “I was only able to put together a first draft in the time before the gathering, but I believe it contains the most important points of my arguments, and should persuade-”

The treatise drops to the floor with a flurry of pages as Phichit leaps into his arms, his smile sweet against his lips.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of Leo and Guang-Hong's story for now! I do plan on returning to this and fleshing out everyone's stories a bit more, and hopefully add an epilogue to everyone's stories, but it might not be for a while yet! In the meantime, I'm really really sorry for how long it took!


End file.
